


Catharsis

by crowdedangels



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowdedangels/pseuds/crowdedangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She needed to be held, he needed to hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetad because my beta is literally saving the world. Well, country. Well, idk. But therefore all mistakes are mine. Apologies.

It wasn’t intended. It wasn’t even remotely thought of as a possible scenario, and yet it happened; again and again. They were drawn to each other for comfort – platonic comfort – as the two who felt the successes and failures of the Atlantis expedition the most.

He went to her the first time, padded barefoot through the halls to her door after hours of restless, sleepless turning in his bed; Ford’s face – that unnatural eye – haunting him every time he closed his eyes. He just wanted to talk about it, get the situation right in his head and she was the only one he trusted.

He called her name in a hushed tone outside her door and eventually waved his hand over the sensor. She was sat up in bed, her hands picking at a tissue on her lap as she looked to him. She didn’t say anything, her chin beginning to quiver as their eyes locked before she laid her head to the pillow and turned to her side.

Though she hadn’t beckoned him in, she hadn’t shooed him away either. He used the sensor to close the door behind him, crossing the short distance to her bed. He faltered once he was there – was this crossing too many lines? – but lay down next to her.

He stared at the ceiling, his hands interlaced on his stomach until she blindly reached back, took his hand and pulled it over her. She welcomed the heaviness of his forearm over her waist as the tears fell.

\--

Earth seemed so far away. Not just geographically, but after everything they had been through on Atlantis, it made their lives there seem a lifetime ago. What was once considered normal and desired on Earth – a glass of wine after a hard day, a live football game on the TV – didn’t hold a candle to what they had now.

Thinking back to Earth, it gave both Elizabeth and John sinking feelings. Deep weights in the pits of their stomachs about what they had, what they lost, _who_ they lost, how their potential future Earth-bound lives would have undoubtedly paled in comparison to Atlantis.

She curled her fingers around John’s forearm, the hairs scratching over her skin as Simon came to mind; Simon with another woman, Simon in their bed with another woman, Simon loving another woman.

She could hardly feel betrayed, she countered. She had chosen her career over her husband, chosen this incredible, unbelievable, stressful, fucked up, dysfunctional, exhausting, unmissable expedition over her husband and was, right now, in bed with another man.

John shifted in his sleep, settling closer to her. She needed to be held and he needed to hold.

\--

She woke before him the third time. It was after his almost complete transformation into a Wraith, his strength and aggression upped exponentially, after he had held her against the wall by her throat.

John had crawled in next to her after it had gone dark. She pulled his hand around her waist and he settled closer than he had before. He had placed a kiss against her neck, where his thumb had pressed into her carotid artery a few weeks before. She had tried to hide the memory from him, didn’t want him to feel guilty about what might have happened, but she welcomed his silent apology.

She woke a few hours later, him still pressed flush against her back, his breath in long, deep exhales against her ear. A sleep-laden smile fell across her face as she settled back against him, a quiet gasp escaping her when she felt him half-hard against her ass. It had been a while, not since Atlantis, but she definitely remembered that.

Her body erupted into tingles, her mind filling with delicious possibilities. _Could she? Should she?_

As soon as she had decided, she felt him stir behind her and closed her eyes quickly. He murmured ‘s _hit_ ’ under his breath and rolled away. He was out of the door before she could pluck up the courage to call him back.

\--

They never mentioned what had happened – what _might have_ happened – and neither knew the other was aware. He made himself run even further that morning, punishing himself with a cold shower afterwards. Though he knew it was a natural morning occurrence, he also knew a rather large part of it was because of her.

He fought the urge to go to her again. There hadn’t been any major incidents lately that may have particularly called for it – Atlantis had been somewhat…calm? - He didn’t want to think on it too hard in case he jinxed it.

She came to him, however. He heard the door swoosh open but didn’t acknowledge it; it was getting too hard to hide what she was doing to him, it’d be better if they kept their distance. More distance than the other side of the bed.

She didn’t say anything, just tucked his comforter beneath her neck with her back to him and let him decide.

\--

“Shit,” he murmured, untucking the sheet enough so he could roll away from her. He balled his hands into fists, willed himself to soften like a teenager on a first date. He moved his fists to cover his eyes, sighing as quietly as he could before he felt her hand smooth across his chest.

“John.”

His head snapped to her, his fists hovering mid-air as he searched her eyes. “I-I-“

Her hand smoothed over his stomach and headed to his tented pants. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her before she managed to touch him where, _God,_ he really wanted her to. “Elizabeth…” he warned.

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him with those earnest dark eyes, the hint of a smirk developing on her lips and waited for him. His grip on her wrist faltered just slightly, and she was able to slowly remove herself and place her hand back on his stomach, above his waistband.

Slowly, tortuously, but allowing him time to stop her, she splayed her fingers and moved lower. He hissed when she got to the material on his hip, the movement of fabric over his erection causing friction and almost unbearable anticipation.

She waited another moment before allowing her fingers to curl around his length, his hips bucking into her hand and a cuss escaping on a breath. She stroked to the tip and back down, continuing on to cup his balls before repeating. His hands bunched the bed-sheets as she did it again but slipping beneath the waistband and to his heated skin. _“Fuck.”_

She squealed his name in a very un-Doctor-Weir way as she suddenly found herself on her back, John settled between her legs and the wrist that had been around his cock now above her head and being joined by her other. He kept them both trapped within his large hand while he fixed his lips to hers, his tongue soon slipping within after quick permission. Years of pent-up sexual frustration, never mind the last few months of waking up beside her hard and wanting, came to the forefront as he synchronised his tongue with his hips.

She whimpered and fought for her hands’ release from his grip but he didn’t let go, instead smoothing his other hand from her collar-bone down to her stomach and up again to cup her breast. He grabbed it somewhat roughly, the already-hard nipple pressing into his palm and eliciting a noise from her that he knew he would be hearing every single night in his dreams.

His name escaped her breath, washing over his lips as he bunched the tee shirt up and touched her skin-to-skin. He kissed down the column of her neck as her legs wrapped around him, clamouring for any kind of touch or control. She smoothed her feet up his calves and shifted her body lower slightly, causing their groins to connect and their need and desire to ramp up.

Thankfully, he released her hands and both were able to quickly and surprisingly dexterously shed their clothing. They settled back against each other, her ankles locking at the base of his back as he placed his hands on either side of her head.

She pulled his head down to find his lips as she fed the other hand between them, circling around him and guiding him to her entrance. He gently thrust through her loose grip and into her as her back arched off the bed, crushing her breasts against his chest while their gasps mingled between their open mouths.

When he was beginning to find a rhythm, she splayed her hands across his back, her fingers and nails pressing deeply into his skin as he filled her completely.

She could feel her orgasm approaching, the swirls settling deep within her, her breath catching at every thrust. _There, God, yes, John, I cant-_

He fed a hand between them, circling her clit as his lips, his teeth, found her nipple. _Oh Jesus-_

His name became broken syllables from her hoarse voice; his breath in deep, husky grunts in time with his hips. _Yes, John-_

He straightened up, watching her face contort in pleasure, in frustration, in sheer desire before he looked down to where their bodies joined in frantic rhythm. He said her name; hoarse, deep, desire-laden, pure eroticism in one word. Four syllables shortened to two as she exploded around him, her muscles contracting, body writhing and arching, fingers clutching anything at which she could blindly grasp.

The sight of her unbidden, the sounds escaping her and feeling her unravel around his cock had him coming not long after, thrusting into her with abandon until it hit and he grunted her name loudly in her ear, her fingers threading through his hair.

He collapsed against her, weightless in his own skin but heavy against her. She stroked from his hair to the small of his back, her feet smoothing across his legs from ass to ankles. She whispered his name in his ear eventually and he rolled off her and onto his back.

“Should I be apologising?” he asked, still somewhat breathless.

“Should _I_ be?” she turned to her side to look at him, doubt and fear setting in.

“Not for that.”

She smirked, smoothing her hand through the short wiry hair of his chest. “You neither.”

“So, we agree, no apologising.”

“Deal.”

“Just so you know, I didn’t start sleeping with you so I could, y’know, sleep with you…”

“I know,” she smiled. “In the interest of full disclosure, however, it was exactly why I slept with you tonight.” His head snapped to her. “Sorry.”

He smoothed a hand through her hair, her curls damp around her neck, as a surprised, amazed, intrigued smirk spread across his lips. “We agreed no apologising.”

“So now wh-“

Her question was lost as Rodney’s voice came from the earpiece on the side table. “Dr Weir? Dr Weir?”

John looked back to the ceiling, “Well, that’s a buzzkill.”

She chuckled softly, reaching behind her. “Go for Dr Weir… Rodney, slow down! Okay, I’ll be right there. I’ll grab John on my way to the Gate Room. Weir out.”

“You’re going to grab me again?”

Her eyebrow rose, “Maybe later. For now, we have Wraiths approaching.”

He instantly swung out of the bed and grabbed for clothing. He zipped his fly and pulled his tee shirt on as she was making for the door, already looking professional and like she hadn’t been thoroughly fucked not ten minutes before. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back into him, his lips finding hers quickly for a passionate, hard, searing kiss. “Until later.”


End file.
